The Covenant
by GreyAsh98
Summary: A look at Carver's life after joining the grey wardens. Instead of Stroud, original characters make up the warden group: an arcane warrior, an elven rogue and an Alamari human leading them and Carver of course. Darkspawn are sighted in unusually high numbers in the free marches - tied to the events of awakening. References to characters and actions from origins, awakening and DA:2.
1. Chapter 1

He was tiring rapidly. His opponent was too good, too fast, too aggressive. There was no hole in his attackers defence, no flaw that could be exploited, simply because there was no need for his attacker to defend himself. Carver could do nothing but attempt to block the onslaught of steel and wood that slashed repeatedly at his face and chest.

He was tiring too fast he knew and he knew it. The fight would be over all too soon and he would not be standing victorious, or at all for that matter. Then he saw it, his golden opportunity. His attacker lunged just a little too far forward and Carver was on him. With a final desperate surge of energy he shouldered the elf into the ground.

Only as he was flipped onto his side in midair did he realise it had been a feint. The hard floor came rushing into view too fast for his liking - this was going to hurt.

When he came to he felt the cold, damp grass against the back of his head and felt the dew seeping through his leathers and tickling his back. He closed his eyes and waited for the blow that he knew would come. The same blow to the side of the head that he received every time he lost to his sparring partner. He awaited the sweet release of unconsciousness...and felt nothing.

He cracked his eyes open slightly and saw a hand offered his way. His eyes followed the arm up and he saw his attacker's face. Sharp features were overlaid by a swirling tattoo that crossed one cheek before winding down the elf's neck. The dark brown eyes that glared down at him softened and he grasped the offered hand, hauling himself to his feet.

"You're getting faster Carver" the elf said with a hint of mirth in his voice, "One of these days you might actually land a hit".

"You'll have to teach me that little trick you pulled, I thought I had you. How did I end up on may back?" Carver asked perplexed.

"All in good time my friend, that's my coup-de-grace and i won't pass it on lightly".

Carver sighed, a smile twitching at his lips. It'd been roughly 3 months since he was taken by the wardens from the deep roads and he was enjoying himself far more than he'd expected. Of course he hadn't at first. After waking up from his rushed joining he'd spent the next week brooding and recovering in equal measure. As far as he was concerned, his brother had abandoned him and left him in the hands of this merry group of travellers who seemed as annoying as Anders.

However, a few days before they had reached the surface, the human - who he had assumed to be the leader and most senior of the wardens - had taken him to the side of the camp they had set up to have a private conversation. Carver had expected a lecture perhaps trying to pry into his life, maybe a little resentment about having to take care of him and a few crude warnings about the dangers they would face. What the man had said however, proved to be rather enlightening.

"I am going to talk at you for a few minutes and then when I have finished I want you to take first watch and think about what I say. I do not want a response until at least tomorrow and I will not listen to anything you have to say until then. Is that understood?"

Carver had bristled at that, he did not like being talked to this fashion but what the man had said did make sense, he would need time to come to a sensible conclusion about whatever was to be revealed next. He decided to hear the man out and nodded his head curtly to show his consent.

"Good. Now, we will be stopping by the warden base in Ansberg in about 4 months. You have no obligation to us then. You can choose to stay there and be assigned a role by the warden-commander when we get there or you can continue your training with us. That decision does not need to be made yet so I will not ask for an answer yet. Until then you are a part of our scouting party and will therefore begin training with Ashiera when we reach the surface."

"While I am in charge of this group, that does not mean I have the only say in what happens, that is not how I choose to lead. We are all equals here as far as I am concerned and so I will listen to any opinions you have about the decisions I make. If you disagree with something I, or my fellow wardens, do then let me know. The only thing I ask of you is that you follow my orders while in combat explicitly. By all means, use your initiative and fight how you want but if I give an order while we are fighting you MUST NOT ignore it. Understood? okay now take first watch, Ashiera will relieve you and we shall talk in the morning."

Carver smiled ruefully when he thought back to their talk the next morning. He had agreed wholeheartedly with the human - later learning that his name was Kane and he hailed from the Frostback mountains, from one of the Alamari tribes - and had thrown himself into his training, determined to prove himself as more than just a charity case.

And that is exactly what he did. It had been no more than 3 months since they left the deep roads and yet he felt stronger, faster and more skilled than he ever had before. Carver was under no delusions that this would be a hard year for him and that he still had much to learn but for the first time in his life, he relished the thought of what the future would bring.

Turning to face Ashiera, Carver reflected on his sparring partner. He liked Ash and could not help but compare the elven rogue to Varric. They were both quick witted and constantly in a good mood it seemed and much like Varric, Ash had an infuriatingly easy time creating whole sagas of bullshit at the click of a finger.

In combat they were polar opposites however, despite using the same weapon. While Ash wielded an intricately carved shortbow, he also carried a rather unusual dagger, the likes of which Carver had never seen before. It was of a similar style as a crow dagger and yet the blade was a jet black with silver runes encircling the hilt. The truly strange thing about it was its size though. It was longer than a dagger for sure and yet shorter than any longsword he had ever laid eyes on. It was as if the blade was forged for the archer's very hand and yet Carver knew this was not true. Ash had found this particular piece of craftsmanship in the deep roads a few years back and since then had used it to slay an inordinate amount of darkspawn.

Carver still marvelled at seeing Ash in combat. He was a shadow, or so he had told Carver, and Carver found no reason to doubt him. He would flit around the battlefield peppering their enemies with arrows before diving straight into the fray, slashing from side to side with his blade and bow alike. At first Carver was perplexed by this strange technique: Why would an archer want to be near the enemy? that was the job of warrior like himself. He had even asked at one point and the only answer he received was a deflective "I am not as feeble as you believe, dear Carver".

Although he shouldn't have been surprised, all of the wardens had strange fighting styles. Their leader, Kane, fought with a single longsword (crafted from the same black metal as Ash's small blade) and used his other hand to devastating effect in grapples and throws. While he did not carry a shield, Kane did wear a piece of plate armor running up his left forearm that he often blocked and deflected oncoming blades and even arrows with. It was no wider than Carver's bicep and yet Kane seemed to be able to judge exactly where it needed to be to protect him from anything that his longsword could not.

The fourth and final member of the team was a rather gruff elf by the name of Syrobryn - shortened to Syro for the benefit of the humans in the group - who wielded a long bladed-staff. Syro was an arcane warrior and one of the last of his kind, or so he claimed, and he fought like a demon. He would often wade directly into the centre of a group of enemies, their attacks bouncing harmlessly off his magically enhanced armor before laying waste to all around him in a matter of seconds. He used blade and magic together to form a terrifying fighting style that was unmatched by any of his enemies.

The only thing lacking from their merry ensemble was a healer. While Syro dabbled with poultices and basic healing magics, it was clearly not his forte. This was soon to be rectified however, if what he had overheard Kane and Ash saying a few nights ago had been true.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he turned again to address Ash. "What happens now?"

"Now? Now we head to Ansberg" Ash replied. It'd been far too long since he'd had a drink and some company and he was anxiously awaiting their return. "And we'll see if you can drink half as well as you fight." Giving Carver a wolfish grin, he jogged ahead to talk to Kane, leaving Carver alone with Syro for the first time.

Carver smiled to himself. He was determined to find out more about those he travelled with and Syro would be the perfect source of information, being the most junior warden excluding Carver himself of course.


	2. Chapter 2

"Syrio..." Carver began whilst sidling over to his fellow warden. He was curious about his companions and as the most junior warden besides him, Syrio seemed to be the perfect candidate for his impromptu information gathering.

"What do you want shem?" Syrio snapped, the cold reply startling Carver somewhat. He knew that the elven mage could be considered surly even at the best of times - _kinda like Fenris I suppose_ he thought, but he'd never seen any mistrust of humans; the man never cowed away in fear or raised his hand in anger to any of the many humans they had met on the road North.

Not that it mattered now, clearly Carver had done something to piss him off without realising it and he had no wish to continue that particular streak any further. Although he was curious as to where this hostility came from and he wasn't about to leave without an explanation at the very least.

"I did not seek to offend you mage, but you have left me a little confused" Carver decided to play it diplomatic as he'd seen his brother do many times when addressing the various idiots and ingrates that they had been trying to help over their first year in Kirkwall. _My god I sound pathetic_, Carver mused with a chuckle, _Almost as bad as Anders when he used to pine after my brother_.

"If you do not wish to offend me, human..." that last word was dripping with scorn, Carver could see the revulsion it caused Syrio by the way the elf's face screwed up when uttering the last syllable - like it was some vile taste he couldn't quite get rid of fast enough.

"..then leave." Carver was again shocked by the coldness of the mage's demeanour, so much so that all the practised, diplomatic responses that he had ready completely vanished from his head and in their place his mouth seemed to work of its own accord.

"Well what's your sodding problem then!?" He pretty much shouted at the elf. At the back of his mind, a small voice was insisting that this was a very bad idea and that he should shut his stupid little mouth right now but when he saw the look of surprise on Syrio's face, he pushed on.

"I thought that maybe the fabled grey wardens would actually live up to their reputation but no! You're just another bitter elf with a petty hatred for humans!" By now Carver had worked himself up into a rage and was not backing down, his voice rising in volume until even Kane and Ash began to take notice, turning round to observe the display with stony faces.

"Seriously, you act all high and mighty and go around thinking you're so much more intelligent and noble than the 'pathetic shems' and yet you still judge every human by the actions of a few!" It occurred to Carver, somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, that he was pretty much adapting parts of Ander's manifesto, swapping mages with humans but he shook the thought from his head.

He was expecting to be interrupted with a punch, or maybe a knife, judging by the expression of barely concealed rage on the elf's face but Carver was determined to finish his tirade and ploughed on regardless.

"And I'm sure there is a tragic story behind your anger but by now it's just petty! I've done nothing to deserve your scorn; I only met you a couple of months ago for Maker's sake!"

He was beginning to run out of things to say and though he wanted to keep shouting about the unfairness of it all, he was losing his anger rapidly. If he was honest it wasn't even Syrio he was angry at. _It's this whole sodding situation isn't it? I never wanted this and yet here I am, forced to spend my life fighting for a cause I couldn't care less about surrounded by people that hate me...fun fun fun!_

Carver visibly deflated, fatigue replacing his rage and before the elf had the chance to run him through, verbally or physically, he stalked off with as much indignation as he could muster.

Syrio made to follow, shaking with anger but Kane laid a hand on his shoulder. "Give him time, remember the months after your joining? You were no delight either my friend".

"I was never THAT much of an ass though!" Syrio replied through gritted teeth, slightly insulted.

A strangled laugh sounded behind the mage. "Not that bad? You set my hair on fire you nug-lover!" Ash chimed in, mirth colouring his voice.

"Okay guys come on, no more dwarven insults - it's bad enough that the new guy uses them constantly, I really don't need you two starting as well" Pleaded Syrio, seemingly calm and composed once more. The three wardens continued their slow trek along the north road, banter flowing easily between them while Ash recounted one of the many tales he had in his repertoire.

Carver didn't know where he was headed but he knew he couldn't stop. Jogging through the undergrowth, ducking under low hanging branches and pushing leaves from his face he allowed thoughts to drift. He was bitter, he had realised that much by now, but he still couldn't figure out why. He'd never particularly enjoyed being in Kirkwall and there was nothing for him there but disappointment.

The disappointment in his brother's eyes when Carver undoubtedly made some snark remark about his leadership, The disappointment written across Varric's face when Carver would say something relating to the trials of living in Hawke's shadow, Even the contempt that Fenris would never attempt to hide hurt but worst of all by far was the disappointment in his mother's voice.

He could hear her sadness whenever she spoke; she would look down on him - _which was always weird seeing as how I am at least a foot and a half taller than her_ he thought - with something close to anguish shining in her eyes and he could just tell that she blamed him for Bethany's death. She never said it explicitly but it was still there. A subtle shake of her head, the way she could never meet his gaze without flinching, as if she was afraid he would let her down somehow by simply looking at her.

And so why did he feel like he'd lost something so precious? He'd always wanted a calling, some way to make his mark on the world, an opportunity to carve out his own path. Was this not it? He was now part of a legendary order of warriors, fighting against an enemy that threatened the whole of Thedas and yet he still didn't feel as if his life was his own. There was too much turmoil in his heart, too many conflicting emotions for him to really figure out what was going on.

He was broken from his reverie when he stumbled out of the undergrowth. The forest had parted almost immediately and a small round clearing had come into view. Carver looked around dubiously, noting the large rock in the centre surrounded by soft grass which gave way to fine dirt further from the rock before reaching the edge of the clearing where it was covered by bushes and thorns.

He edged closer to the rock, wearily scanning the tree line for any hint of danger. He wasn't usually this jumpy but it seemed like a strange place for a clearing. The soil looked like it would support roots as well as anywhere else and he could see no reason for the lack of tree cover. There was also a faint hum that surrounded the clearing, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The tingling sensation spread down his neck and over his back and before he even realised what he was doing his sword was in his hands and he was crouching into his fighting stance.

The tingling grew in intensity and he shuffled uneasily from foot to foot, considering backtracking to grab the other wardens before coming back. But no. There was no time; the tingling had grown to a full-fledged itch that made his skin crawl and his throat prickle.

The sensation seemed somehow oddly familiar and his breath started to quicken. He was beginning to worry, anxiety clawing at his gut. What was this feeling and why didn't he recognise it? Why did he? He wasn't sure.

And then just as the hum became near deafening, something clicked in his head - Darkspawn. The word leapt into his mind accompanied by a surge of emotion. Dread, anger, fear, rage - he felt them all within the span of a single heartbeat.

He was jarred into motion by sound of an arrow whistling past his face, mere inches away from ending his life. He dived to the left, tucking into a role in mid air and coming to his feet behind the rock in the centre of the clearing. He could feel them straight ahead, at least a dozen, with a couple breaking left to flank him.

Fear was replaced with a detached calm as he rose from behind the boulder, already moving to his left, one hand clutching his greatsword while the other was launching a soulroot bomb towards the bulk of the darkspawn.

He sprinted to the tree line, hoping that the bomb provided enough of a distraction to prevent him turning into a walking pin cushion stuffed full of arrows. And as luck would have it, he managed to make the 20 yard dash unscathed. Now that he was within relative cover, he started after the three creatures that had tried to flank him. Genlocks he suspected, most probably rogues - easily dealt with if he was right.

He saw a shadow move about 3 meters in front and hefted his greatsword in preparation. He steadied his breathing, counting down the seconds and trying to keep his impatience in check. 2 more steps and then he swung, cleaving the shadow in half from sternum to hip. The creature cried out in surprise, choking on its own blood, and the other two were similarly dealt with before the first had even hit the floor. _3 down, 9 to go_ he thought grimly; _time to do what I do best_.

He glanced out of the tree line towards the clearing. A mixture of Hurlocks and Genlocks surrounded the large rock with a taller darkspawn standing on top of the rock, towering above them all. The emissary, _the robe is a bit of a giveaway, why not wear armor as a disguise?_, caused him to pause momentarily and part of his mind was screaming at him to run for help before it was too late. But then the more rational part of his mind, or maybe just the angry part, kicked in and he felt steely determination settle in his stomach, cold and hard and completely unforgiving.

Tensing his legs, he felt the coiled strength of his muscles propel him forward as he scythed out of the forest and into the clearing, slamming into the nearest couple of creatures with such a force that they were thrown back a couple of meters, bodies smacking into the stone behind them and crumpling to the floor lifelessly.

But Carver didn't notice, already spinning with his blade held level and straight, slicing through a particularly ambitious Hurlock trying to take him from behind. Without losing any momentum, he continued the swing to intercept another blade aiming for his throat before ducking to the right and smashing his pommel into the face of the offending Hurlock, gratified to hear the sickening crunch of steel breaking bone.

Turning to face his next opponent, he managed to leap back just quick enough to avoid a potentially fatal hammer swing from one of the larger Hurlock before he stepped forward and caved its chest in. However, as he kicked the alpha off the end of his blade and turned, he knew he would not be quick enough to avoid the arrow that slammed into his shoulder a moment later.

The force of it staggered him and lights flashed in his vision but he didn't go down. Instead he used the momentum to spin around the side of the boulder out of sight before diving away from a well placed fireball launched by the emissary.

While he was no templar, he'd had plenty of experience fighting mages after running with his brother for a year and a half in Kirkwall, the most blood-magey place in all of Thedas and so he managed to avoid being burned to a crisp for the moment.

Rolling to his feet he charged towards the remaining few darkspawn and a few swings, parries and a well placed kick later, there was silence. He turned slowly towards the centre of the clearing again, rage building in his stomach. The two things he hated most in the world right now, magic and darkspawn, was standing not 5 meters from him, snarling and waving its hands - _claws_ he corrected himself mentally - in a complex pattern, evidently summoning a very powerful, and therefore dangerous, spell.

A feral grin spread across his face as he broke into a sprint. 3 steps and only half a second later he was leaping through the air, surging toward the spindly creature, roaring a challenge at the top of his lungs. He felt the temperature drop to well below freezing in an instant and he knew that he had about 2 seconds before he was frozen solid and killed.

But 2 seconds was more than enough time to bring his blade up in front of him and stab it through the chest of the emissary. The magic spluttered and died at its fingertips instantaneously and Carver heaved himself up to his full height, snarling in the face of darkspawn that represented everything he hated about the world. He hefted his sword in both hands, raising it upwards towards the sky with the limp body of the emissary still impaled on the end and allowed himself a moment to bask in his victory.

His chest was still heaving from exertion, and sweat and grime coated his face but he felt alive, more alive than he ever had done while following Hawke around that stupid city. He was a grey warden now and for the first time, he felt acceptance wash over him - along with something akin to contentment. It was only a poor imitation, he knew. He would never be content with this life and what it represented but at least for the moment he could drink in his victory.

It was at that moment that the three wardens burst through into the clearing, weapons out and stained with blood. Syrio was glowing with an arcane light, mana visibly pulsing from him at regular intervals. Kane's face was an impassive mask and his mood was unreadable but he was swinging his sword in slow, steady arcs, his body tensed and ready for combat. Only Ash showed any emotion and Carver was surprised to see panic on his face._ Was he worried about me? Surely not_ he thought but he couldn't argue with the evidence - Ash's face was slowly transforming from panic to relief before his very eyes and as much as Carver hated to admit, it felt god to have someone worry about him.

"Well Carver, it looks like we needn't have rushed after all" laughed Kane, a hint of relief washing over his face as well.

Syrio just scowled, which didn't surprise Carver in the slightest given their previous conversation, but Ash butted in before he could reply.

"We're all very impressed with the work you've done here but we didn't expect to find you cutting such a dramatic pose I have to say" Ash said with a wink, "it looks like you're waiting for someone to paint you!".

Carver laughed, not sarcastically or in a guarded manner as usual but a proper, honest laugh. "I think I'll just commemorate this moment with a tattoo. I need something to keep my mabari company anyway." said Carver with a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Kane cleared his throat meaningfully, causing Ash to fall silent. "As enlightening as it is, hearing that a warden under my command has a tattoo of a mabari somewhere on his body, this is a serious issue" Carver frowned, _I just killed a dozen darkspawn and an emissary single headedly, surely he's not gonna punish me?_, and waited for Kane to continue.

"The darkspawn shouldn't be out in this number above ground. There must be an entrance to the deep-roads nearby, we set camp here and we'll discuss it later. For now: Syrio - get a fire going and cook us some food. Ash - scout out the perimeter. While I can't sense any darkspawn nearby, I'd rather not be ambushed by bandits or wolves later. Carver - You're with me, I want to see to that shoulder."

Ash nodded and melted into the tree line like a ghost while Syrio gathered wood and set about creating a fire while readying pots and pans. Carver walked over to where Kane was standing against a tree, his muscles protesting every movement. Earlier, with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, it had been easy to ignore the aches in his legs and the screaming agony of his shoulder but now, every meter seemed like an eternity, pain flaring through his upper body with each step.

Kane merely observed him calmly from behind his dark locks which had fallen across his face. He made no move to help Carver on his seemingly endless journey that couldn't have taken longer than a couple of seconds but Carver could make out a hint of compassion in his eyes.

"You did well today Carver, it seems our fears were unfounded." Carver couldn't help but be drawn to Kane's deep, gravelly voice. It seemed understanding an authoritative at the same time and he marvelled at the strange gruff quality of it.

"Fears?" Carver queried, unaware that there were fears in the first place.

"We thought that given your history with the darkspawn" _He's talking about Bethany,_ Carver realised, "you would struggle to face them again. Clearly we were wrong." He finished, sweeping a hand to encompass the clearing filled with darkspawn corpses.

"We'll need to burn the dead once I get that arrow out of your shoulder. You should be proud - that will leave a nice scar" Kane chuckled and Carver smiled with him before grimacing at the thought removing the arrow. He sighed;_it's going to be a long night_.


End file.
